


Miles Lamia

by AnnaOfMirkwood



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, not specifically rape but there are non consensual elements in this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaOfMirkwood/pseuds/AnnaOfMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DISCONTINUED (maybe i'll pick this back up one day... i'm embarrassed by this but i feel bad for deleting it because it's my most popular story oops)</p><p>Victorian vampire AU based off a picture/prompt by Tumblr user horns-of-mischief (link in chapter one).</p><p>In which Loki is a vampire and turns Bucky into one, former soldier Steve Rogers chases them, and vampire hunter Tony Stark assists...for his own reasons. </p><p>Any warnings for individual chapters will be in the notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Horns of Mischief (Rinelin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinelin/gifts).



[Story prompt](http://horns-of-mischief.tumblr.com/post/86534395053/this-is-what-ive-been-working-on-for-the-last)

 

* * *

The sun was just sinking past the tops of the hills surrounding the small Yorkshire village where this story begins. The burning sunlight made the windows of the various buildings and houses glare red. Most families were sitting down to supper and all the businesses of the town were closing…except for one. The windows of the village tavern shone with a light from within, as its hours of operation were just starting up. The labors of the day were done and now the men of the town and surrounding farms were come to either celebrate or escape their adventures, possibly a mixture of both.

The inside of the tavern was lit by several lamps and a crackling fire, giving the large main room a nice, warm and cozy feel that contrasted to the chilly late October air outside. There were some tables and armchairs placed throughout the room, though the majority of the men were sat at the bar that ran along the wall opposite of the fire. The usual customers were present, and appearances favored an average night for the little business. That is, until a complete stranger to the community walked through the door.

He was towering in height with vast, muscular shoulders that tapered down into narrower but still wide hips. He had fair skin and dark blond hair, neatly swept back. His stature, demeanor, and gait, from his upright posture to the set determination which sat heavily on the well-proportioned features of his face, all screamed military.

People glanced up at him as he entered, some did a double-take, and one or two openly stared. His light blue eyes glided over the room briefly before settling on the bar, which he directly walked towards. Pulling something out of his coat pocket, he addressed the barman first. The burly, gray-whiskered man stared intently at the objects in his hand—a photograph and a slightly crinkled scrap of paper—then shook his head. The young blond moved on to the patrons sitting at the bar, showing them the same objects.

He could have been intimidating, but once he opened his lips he at once set his listeners at ease with his earnest yet polite address. His eyes, though hard, were not unkind, and he had a slowness and deliberation in his speech which was respectful and nonthreatening simultaneously. Despite being pleased with his address, the bar’s occupants could only give him the same answer as the barman—negative.

Not deterred, the man turned around and faced the rest of the room. He made his way across, stopping at the few occupied tables and armchairs to show the men the same two objects but still getting the same answer. Finally he made his way to the last cluster of people: three elderly men sitting in faded armchairs around the fire. Approaching them and bowing slightly in greeting, he begin the same inquiry.

“Please excuse me for interrupting you, sirs, but I would like to ask you a question. Have you seen either of these two men recently?” he asked, holding out the photograph and the paper. The men passed around each, looking at them with eyes hooded by wrinkled lids and aided by thick spectacles.

The photograph was of two men standing side-by-side. The first was the blond man himself. The second man was a head shorter than the first with wispy darker hair that hung at his chin. They both had charming smiles on their faces and were wearing military uniforms. The piece of paper was a drawing of a third man from the shoulders up. It was hastily done in ink, but not a bad drawing. This third man had long dark hair that sat on his left shoulder in a braid and an angular, sharp jaw. His features were prominent without being large or unsightly. Underneath the arching eyebrows were eyes, which the artist had obviously taken time to get right. Despite being only ink on slightly worn paper, they had a sharpness of expression that was lifelike and slightly unnerving. Looking at the image, one felt that the man was there in reality, staring one down like an insignificant speck of dirt on his glove.

“I’m sorry, son,” said one of the men, taking a pull from his pipe, “but I’m afraid I haven’t seen any of the men in these here pictures, unless you’re counting yourself.”

“Aye,” echoed his two companions, with similar apologies.

A flash of disappointment crossed the man’s features, but he did his best to quash it down as he thanked them for their time and turned away. He took a few steps towards the door of the tavern then stopped, letting his strong expression drop for a moment as he sighed heavily. He brought the photograph up in one hand and stared at it sadly for several seconds while the drawn picture hung down by his side in his other hand. With another deep breath, he steeled himself and was about to continue to the door. Then, he was arrested by a low but earnest voice coming from behind him.

“Are you not going to ask me?”

The blond man hesitated for half a second, a weird sense of apprehension washing over him. Then he turned around. Behind him, in a dark corner of the room not easily noticed at first, were a few more armchairs, one of which was occupied by a man. It was hard to distinguish much about him from the distance and lack of proper lighting, but he appeared to have dark hair and glittering eyes, which the blond man noticed were looking intently at the paper hanging by his side. Despite any odd and unexplained feelings this strange man excited, the blond man walked forward to him—he was a man with a purpose, and he was not to be easily intimidated.

“Yes sir, I apologize. I didn’t see you there,” he said with a bow. “Have you seen either of these two gentlemen lately?”

The man in the armchair looked briefly over the photograph before moving to the drawn picture, which he stared at intently. Emotion flashed through his eyes, though the blond man couldn’t tell what, as his face remained a stoic mask. As he was seemingly absorbing the picture into his mind, the blond man had leisure for taking in his companion. He had slightly curly, roughly pushed back dark hair, equally dark eyes, and a neatly trimmed moustache and beard. He wasn’t a large man, but he gave off an air of importance that almost made one forget his size. He had nice, expensive-looking clothes, several rings on his fingers, and an ornate cane sitting beside his chair. He didn’t seem snobby, but at the same time gave off a distinct “gentry” vibe.

“The first man I’ve never seen before in my life,” he finally said, still looking at the picture in his hands. “The second one…I wish I could say the same.” His dark eyes darted up to the man in front of him. “Tell me, how did you become so unfortunate as to be involved with the likes of him?”

The blond man stared at him for several seconds before he said in a constrained voice, “I’d rather not say. He has done me wrong, and my friend in the photograph may be in danger from him. Please sir, I need to know anything you may know about him or where I could find him.”'

The brunette surveyed him before he smiled in an overly nice way. “So sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t think I can help you. I do wish you luck though, however you may fair.”

The blond man again stared at him, lips slightly parted as he tried to form words that would not come and an offended blush rose into his cheeks. Finally, biting his bottom lip, he dropped himself into the chair nearest the man. Looking at him with a slightly colder expression than before, he said, “How do _you_ know this man?”

The brunette barked out a short laugh. “I did ask you first, err… names are probably in order. I am Sir Anthony Stark, preferably just Tony.” He extended his hand, which after a heartbeat’s hesitation, the other man took and shook briefly.

“Captain Steve Rogers.” He said, dropping Tony’s hand.

“Pleased to make the acquaintance, oh Captain _,”_ he said with a slight informal inflection on the title that Captain Rogers was not used to hearing. “Now, as I was saying, you know this creature how…?”

Seeing the captain still hesitant, he took a sip from his glass of some dark, amber liquid and then said, “Well, let me tell you a little about him, to make sure we’re on the same page. I don’t need this picture to be in color to tell you more about his appearance. He has skin as pale as the moonlight outside—the only time I’ve seen skin equally pale on a person is when they were lying in a coffin. He has even whiter teeth which, in the right light, seem almost _jagged_ in shape. Then we move to his eyes. They’re grayish blue, but not cloudy like such colored eyes normally are—they are as clear as glass. Though now that we think about it, they are not always this color. Occasionally, though few people alive would be able to tell you this, they are a bright, vibrant green.”

He paused to take another drink and to look at his companion over the rim of his vessel. He had the captain’s rapt attention, obviously hanging onto every word with an earnest expression.

“If we move from just appearance and talk about actually manner, he has movements even more fluid than a dancer’s, almost like he glides across the ground. Instead of being slow however, he is uncommonly fast and quiet; he could be standing a hair’s breadth behind you and you would have no idea he was there. He is also unrealistically strong. Though he is tall, he is also very slender, but don’t let that deceive you—I’ve seen him pick up men larger than himself with ease. Finally, his speech is hypnotic—he could convince you to do almost anything with mere words alone.”

“Loki…” Captain Rogers murmured, almost to himself.

“Yes, that is his name,” said Tony with a grim smile. “The fact that you know this is not encouraging, for you or your friend. From what I’ve just told you, I think we’re both in agreement that Loki is not exactly your average gentleman. So if your hesitation in divulging more information to me relative to your situation stems from a fear that I will not believe you… let me assure you, I dare say that whatever you have to tell me will not be the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard.”

The captain locked his light eyes with the other man’s dark ones, searching. Finally, he sighed. He seemed to shrink several sizes as his shoulders hunched over, as if the words he were about to say weighed on them like lead.

“The man in the photograph is Lieutenant **(1)** James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as I was wont to call him as a child. He and I grew up together—he cared for me a lot, as I was often very sickly. I followed him into the army as an adult, and we were in the same regiment in the War **(2)**. In fact, we had just arrived in Portsmouth a week prior, disbanding from our ship that brought us back from Crimea, when we met… _Loki_.” He whispered the name with a shudder, as if it were a curse. “Upon arriving in town, we procured lodgings, as we intended to be there a while—we both have no relations living and meant to try to set ourselves up there. Bucky started walking out in the evening along the ramparts, saying it helped him to clear his head. He was very shaken up by the War, had some nasty experiences. He lost his left arm—”

“He appears to have both arms in this picture,” Tony commented offhandedly. He was listening to Captain Roger’s narrative with only mild interest—he was still waiting for Loki to come in.

“The picture was taken right before we left for the War,” Captain Rogers said with some annoyance at being interrupted. “As I was saying, he liked to take walks, but he was usually back before dark. Well, it was Friday night two weeks ago, and it was almost a half an hour past dark yet he still had not returned. I set out to look for him and found him. He was in one of his favorite haunts, a dock that overlooked the waves, and his back was to me as he stared down at the water. I started to go down to him and call his name, but suddenly someone else was there. One moment, Bucky was alone and then I blinked and then…he wasn’t alone…”

He glanced up here with another searching gaze, gauging his listener’s reaction, probably looking for signs that Tony thought he was having him on. But Tony met his eyes with a steadfast, grave expression as he nodded earnestly for the captain to continue.

“While I was still standing there with my mouth open catching flies, Bucky turned around to face the man, who had appeared right behind him. He didn’t look shocked though to see him. I caught his face in the dock-light and he looked…like he was half-asleep, or in some kind of trance. His eyes were drooped and his face slack. I think the man said something to him, but I was too far away to hear what. Bucky’s head rolled to the side, and the man leaned down…almost as if he was whispering to him, but he seemed to be angled more towards his neck than his ear.”

Captain Rogers’s hands flexed against his strong thighs then clenched into fists as he remembered this. Apparently, a man acting this close, and dare say intimate, with his friend was a particular offense in his eyes. Then with a shudder, he continued, “And then he _collapsed_ , as if in a faint. The man caught him under his arm, but he was as limp as a doll. At this time, I cried out his name in alarm and rushed toward them, scared Bucky had had an episode, which he has sometimes when he thinks to long about the War. The man whipped around and glared at me, and I swear his eyes glowed green. I do not mean that the dim light around us reflected off them—they seemed to glow from within. Then, as I was a mere arm’s length away (I hadn’t been far away to begin with), he…he threw Bucky over his shoulder and jumped from our dock to the next one. Sir, those docks were _at least_ two spans apart, but he jumped them as if they were steps on a staircase, with a man on his shoulder too! I tried to follow, but they soon outstripped me and disappeared, and…that’s the last time I saw my friend.”

The baronet took a long sip of his drink, seeming to digest all of what he had just been told. Then, his inquiries began. “How did you learn his name?”

“After I lost them, I began frantically alerting any and every one in the area, but…they all laughed me off as drunk or delusional,” he admitted with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “All except one young woman who identified herself as Miss Carter. She came up to me after the men had walked off, dismissing and laughing at me, and asked me to tell her what had happened. I told her basically what I have just told you, though in so breathless a tone that I’m surprised she understood what I said. As I finished, she turned pale, and said I was lucky to be alive. I asked what she meant, and she said, ‘Very few people see Loki, and live to tell the tale.’

“She explained that there was a small, largely discounted legend around the Portsmouth docks that told of a figure such as I had described who would show up from time to time. Whenever he was seen, someone from the town would disappear without a trace. I pressed her for more, but that was all she knew. She did direct me to two others who she knew claimed to have seen this man. I went to the first person but found the house abandoned. I had much better luck with the second person, a woman named Miss Maria Hill. She had seen him, and in such close quarters as she had heard him speak. He had been talking to a young woman while Miss Hill was nearby. He seemed unaware of her presence when he appeared behind the other lady in the same sudden way he appeared behind Bucky. She too turned to face him and appeared to be in a trance. In a dreamlike voice, she asked him, ‘Who are you?’ to which he answered, ‘I am Loki.’ Then he bent down to her neck, she dropped, he picked her up, and they were gone.

“Miss Hill said she was too transfixed by fear to move until several minutes after they had disappeared. She too tried to seek help and received a similar response. But she wasn’t disheartened. She kept searching out information, and eventually came in contact with the first person who I’d been recommended to. This person, a Miss Natasha Romanoff, had, after some determined pestering, told Miss Hill several other towns where similar men had been seen in concurrence with unsolved disappearances, which she believed Loki to have had his hand in. It forms a large circuit all throughout England and even dances into Scotland briefly. This path I have been following for the last ten days, trying to catch him. I have to catch him and _find Bucky.”_

A fire burned in his voice and eyes as he spoke the last two words, as clearly showed his determination. Tony looked at him for a long time and then drained his glass. When he looked back up at his companion, he sighed, suddenly looking years older.

“We need to continue this conversation somewhere less public,” he said finally, and when he received an odd look from Captain Rogers, he said, “ _Captain,_ Loki has eyes and ears everywhere. He has people who watch for him, and sometimes he does the watching himself. As I said, he could be right behind you and you’d never know until it was too late. I’d like to go to my manor just over the hill where I’m much surer we won’t be overheard by unwelcome ears, because I have some very important intelligence to impart to you.”

“If he is as shadowy as you describe, how can one be safe anywhere?” Captain Rogers asked doubtfully, though he was interested in what the man said of important intelligence. Could he tell him something of Loki that would help him find him, and Bucky?

“There are ways of guarding against him, which again, I will tell you when we aren’t surrounded by sensitive ears and loose lips,” Tony said, his eyes darting around the room. Captain Rogers considered this for several seconds before tersely nodding. “Good,” Tony said, standing up and dropping a few shiny coins on the table where his empty glass sat. “I’ll call my carriage.”

They went outside and Tony called to his coachman, a large man by the name of Hogan who looked a little surprised to see his master (Captain Rogers surmised that he wasn’t in the habit of reappearing from the tavern at so early an hour). As his coach was fetched, the captain requested one of the nearby stable boys to retrieve his own horse.

“You can ride in my carriage with me,” Tony offered with a wave of his hand. “Your horse can be sent for—”

“Thank you for your kindness, Sir Anthony,” Captain Rogers interrupted. “But I am afraid I would prefer to follow behind.”

He didn’t want to entrap himself inside this man’s carriage and end up God knows where. He wanted to know exactly where he was going and (if the need arose) be able to leave of his own accord. He didn’t fear this gentleman. He wouldn’t say he trusted him either, but he felt no reason for suspicion…yet. The precaution was mostly because Captain Steve Rogers simply did not understand Sir Anthony Stark; he couldn’t figure him out. And until he could read him properly, it was best to be on the safe side.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him for half a second, and Captain Rogers had the distinct feeling that the baronet had guessed his reason for wanting to use his own mode of transport. Instead of seeming vexed, though, he laughed good-humoredly and said, “As you will, oh _Captain_.”

“I hate to make much out of nothing, sir,” said Captain Rogers as he was handed the reins of his horse, a brown mare with black mane and tail. “But in all honesty, the way you say ‘captain’ sounds very mocking.”

“Mocking! I see,” Tony paused for a moment, stroking his chin. “Well, sir, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I believe it is also considered mocking to call someone by one name when they have already stated they prefer another.”

Captain Rogers frowned at him in confusion for a heartbeat before realization lit up his features. A heightened color came into his cheeks, and with some embarrassment, he tersely replied, “I beg your pardon, Sir Tony.”

“Happily given. And none of this Sir business, either, if you please,” he added with a wave of his hand as his carriage drew up beside him. “Sir is a title for, well, business! When dealing with personal matters, I prefer Tony, _just_ Tony.”

Captain Rogers looked at him as if doubting his seriousness. He’d never met a baronet who didn’t like to be constantly reminded of their rank by being addressed as such. When he realized that Tony _was_ serious, he laughed aloud. Tony blinked at him but said nothing. In the last fortnight, Captain Rogers had seen the person he cared most about in the world kidnapped before his eyes, possibly kil- ( _‘no, do consider such things,’_ he chided himself internally); had learned that this person’s captor was something supernatural, though he knew not what; and now he had found someone who could be key in finding out more about this creature; and that someone, of all things, was a baronet who seemed entirely aware of his own importance but refused the normal methods of making it known to others! Captain Rogers laughed at the absurdity of it, if for the only reason that if he didn’t laugh, he was sure he would cry instead.

“Then by all means, Tony, please refer to me as _just_ Steve from henceforth,” he said, chuckling, but it was not sound.

Tony frowned but nodded. He climbed into his carriage, Steve mounted his horse, and they set off towards one of the many hills surrounding the east side of the village, beyond which was supposedly the baronet’s manor that the trickery of Loki could not penetrate.

* * *

There was another village about an hour’s ride away which was also ridged by many rolling hills. By now the moon was out, and its translucent white beams shimmered down to the earth and enlightened a terrific scene. On first glance the hill in which this story’s direction is now turned would appear deserted. But on a second review, one could just make out some outlines in the shadows that certainly could belong to no rock or bramble patch.

The easiest one to identify was the shape of a man reclining against a large boulder, his legs crossed in front of him. He had long black hair that sat in a braid on his shoulder, tied by a neat ribbon, and skin as pale as the moonlight that filtered down from the night sky. His eyes were closed behind purple lids and his hands were folded laxly in his lap. A small smile sat upon his scarlet lips and the golden buttons on his coat glinted in the half-light. He was a beautiful man, looking like a dark Narcissus painted by some great master. He was certainly still enough to be a painting.

The other figure was not so motionless. One could not tell with one glance what the misshapen mass at his feet was, but upon closer inspection one found it was not one, but two people. One person laid on her back, and the other leaned over her, his face buried in her neck. The leaning person’s bobbed slightly as his mouth worked: biting down, releasing, sucking, and then biting again. The person on the ground, a young woman, lie absolutely still.

The scene didn’t vary for several minutes until, with a smack of his lips, the man who had been feasting upon the woman’s neck sat up. He had brown hair that hung down from the crown of his head and just tickled his chin, and skin equally pale as the sitting man’s. His lips were crimson with a dark bead trickling down to the edge of his jaw. As he sat up, the other man opened his eyes and ran his tongue over his lips, cleaning off any vestiges of blood that might remain.

“Come to me, _Delicium_ **(3)** ,” Loki said quietly, his voice gentle. James Buchanan Barnes almost instantaneously appeared at his side, moving quicker than an average human would possibly be able to, not even taking into account his missing left arm. Loki lifted up one of his arms, Bucky crawled under it, and he let it down to rest upon his shoulders. With his other arm, Loki tilted Bucky’s head up by a finger under his jaw. Leaning down, he ran his tongue along the length of the dribble of blood on his face, from the tip of his chin to his bottom lip. Pulling back slightly, Loki chuckled and said, “My, my. You are a sloppy eater.”

“I am sorry, _Dominus_ **(4)** ,” answered Bucky, his displeasure and worry clear in his voice. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, _Delicium_ , you are not in trouble,” Loki replied in a fondly teasing tone. “I do not mind your table manners at present; you are still young, and cannot be expected to control yourself yet. Besides, it gives me excuse to clean you up.”

He leaned back down and kissed Bucky, running his tongue across the smooth flesh of his lips. Bucky neither actively participated nor resisted. He simply followed as he was led like a good _delicium_ —when Loki poked at the part of his lips with his tongue, he opened them to allow access; if Loki used the hand cupping his chin to turn his head this way or that, he readily complied; whatever way Loki moved against him, he was sure to adjust appropriately.

Eventually, Loki decided he had had his fill and pulled back. Bucky did not try to continue, but instead look intently up at his _dominus_ , watching for tiny little signals that would show him what Loki wanted him to do next. Loki’s eyes examined his face, looked into the gray eyes that had once resembled storm clouds but were now crystalline like his own. After a few seconds of staring, he discerned the miniscule green rings that encircled the outer ridges of his irises, barely visible unless one were looking for them. Satisfied, he let his eyes trail down Bucky’s face, his neck, and his shoulder. They moved down to his arm, or what was left of it—it ended right below the shoulder, and the sleeve of his coat was rolled up and pinned just after. Loki frowned slightly.

“My poor _miles lamia_ **(5)** ,” he murmured, his eyes dragging back up to Bucky’s face. He found him looking earnestly at him, confusion and alarm in those gray eyes.

Bucky’s mind was in uproar. Was _Dominus_ talking about him? He must be—he was the only other person around. But _Dominus_ had only called him _Delicium_ before. What did _miles lamia_ mean? Was it bad? Was _Dominus_ upset with him?

“Calm yourself, _Delicium_ ,” Loki chided gently. “Do not alarm yourself needlessly. I was merely thinking aloud about your unlucky arm.”

Bucky was no longer confused, but he was now sad and ashamed. He knew _Dominus_ was displeased with the state of his arm, but he could do nothing about it. He felt weak because he couldn’t fix himself and unhappy because he couldn’t please _Dominus_. His eyes finally fell from Loki’s face and locked onto his one remaining hand, which sat clenched in his lap. Loki lifted his face back up, and Bucky immediately looked into his eyes again.

“I am not displeased with you,” Loki said, as if he could read Bucky’s thoughts through his beautiful orb-like eyes. “Have patience, _Delicium_ , and you will have an arm again. I will fashion you a new, better one. But you must be patient.”

Bucky nodded vigorously, taking the order of patience to heart, even if that would entail waiting for the rest of his existence. Loki kissed him again, this time on his forehead. Then he stood, with Bucky mirroring his movement. From the ground he picked up an ornate cane made out of metal than looked almost like liquid. It moved like liquid too, as in almost an instant it lengthened into a staff with a curved horn-like blade and blue gem.

“Time for us to move on,” he said, half to himself. Bucky waited patiently at his side. Loki lifted up the staff and the gem glowed with a light from within. A ray of light shot down from the gem and hit the body of the woman, who had been lying at their feet as still as a stone. The light seemed to pass over her body—and she was gone, vanished. Slightly flattened grass and a few flecks of blood were all that remained.

The light in the gem simmered out. Loki turned to face Bucky and held out his hand, which Bucky instantly placed his own hand in.

“Are you ready to run, _Delicium_?” he added with a smile as Bucky again nodded, his features alight with happiness. It gave Bucky joy to test his strengths, namely by running so fast that the world was a blur behind him. It gave Loki a slightly more vain happiness to know that he had the power of causing someone pain or pleasure with such little effort on his own part. “Then let us go.”

In the blink of an eye, they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter contains depictions of vampires feeding, situations of non-consensual activity, and insinuations of mind-control. 
> 
> So yeah, here’s my first chapter! It’s sort of a prologue, so sorry if it doesn’t make 100% sense. I promise things will be explained more fully in chapter two. :) This is based off an artwork with a prompt by horns-of-mischief on Tumblr. I really hope they like what I’ve done with their concept!  
> Some other things to note: I’m from Mississippi, USA, but I’m trying to write this story in a Victorian English style so it’ll fit with the plot. Forgive me if it sounds unrealistic at times, and don’t be afraid to point it out—I want to improve! The same with phrases you may see in this story in other languages. The title is in Latin, and I don’t know Latin, so if you do and you see me mess up, please let me know. I’ll try to have translations in the notes if I use anything besides English. If you see a bolded number in parenthesis in the story then that means I’ll have a corresponding explanation at the end of the chapter.  
> (1) I’m basing these characters more off the MCU than the comics. Bucky was a Sergeant in The First Avenger, but I couldn’t find that the English army had sergeants, at least during the Victorian era, so I gave him the next best title in my opinion.  
> (2) WWII wouldn’t have happened yet, so I needed a different war. I chose the Crimean War (1854—1856).  
> (3) Delicium is Latin for pet.  
> (4) Dominus is Latin for master.  
> (5) Miles lamia is Latin for vampire soldier.


	2. Chapter 2

“What will you take?” Tony asked as he stood at a sideboard lined with bottles of various shapes and hues. “I usually have brandy, but for some reason you seem to me the breed of man who prefers whiskey.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Steve answered distractedly. He was exerting much restraint at the moment, trying to refrain from seeming impatient and desperate. He wasn’t entirely successful; though he didn’t immediately begin pressing Tony for knowledge, the way he chewed his bottom lip and drummed his fingers against the side of the glass Tony had just set in his hand plainly spoke his impatience. The baronet saw all these little fidgets with his darting dark eyes, but said nothing as he sat down on the sofa opposite of the captain’s chair.

They were sitting in the large, richly furnished drawing room of Tony’s manor. True to his word, it had been just beyond the hills on the east of the village, and encouraged by this display of trustworthiness, Steve had consented upon arrival to allow one of Tony’s farmhands to lead his horse off to the stables. He had followed Tony to the large double doors that fronted his house, which were thrown open with mock ceremony and a flippant welcome to his “humble abode.” Steve had stepped past him into a large foyer that opened onto a grand staircase, flanked on either side by hallways that disappeared behind the sides of the broad structure. The door had only just shut behind him, when the captain heard the sharp click of shoe soles slapping against the glossy floors. Presently, a woman had appeared from the hallway to the left. She had blond hair tied back neatly behind her head and wore fine but modest clothes.

“You’re back, To—Sir Anthony,” she had said as she rounded the staircase, floundering a little when she saw that Tony wasn’t alone.

He had waved his hand dismissively as he walked by Steve and said, “Not business, no need for that. And yes, I’m back. Decided the tavern wasn’t to my taste tonight.” While the woman was narrowing her sharp eyes at him, he purposely looked away from her at Steve and said, “Steve, allow me to introduce you to Miss Pepper Potts, my housekeeper.”

“Captain Steve Rogers, m’lady,” Steve had stammered with a bow of his head, partially from decorum and the rest from his desire to hide his momentary confusion. He had assumed she was Tony’s wife, though he hadn’t spoken of having one. She looked much too young to be a housekeeper, who in his experience were usually crinkly gray widows who were always much too busy but could also always find time to chat for half an hour about everything and nothing.

She had bowed her head back politely and then turned to Tony. “Well Tony since you’re back I guess I’ll retire—”

“Even though you could have already retired. I don’t understand your insistence in staying up until I return home each night,” had interjected Tony.

Miss Potts had continued on as if he hadn’t interrupted her: “Do you need anything before I do?”

“Nothing at all. If I do think of something, I’ll just drag Jarvis out of bed. Is the fire still burning in the drawing room?”

“Yes, it is, though it may need stirring in a half-hour or so. Goodnight then, Tony,” she had said, and added with a slightly more formal tone, “Goodnight, Captain Rogers. Pleasure to meet you.”

“The same to you,” he had answered as she turned and left the way she came, the clack of her heels fading into silence with the resounding echo of a closed door. Steve had then followed him into the drawing room where the aforementioned scene had then unfolded.

“Has Miss Potts been with you long?” Steve asked as he swirled his drink in his hand, trying to create some conversation to fill the awkward void of silence as Tony sat down opposite him.

“Yes, all my life actually. She was the daughter of my father’s steward. Though she wasn’t his responsibility, he provided her with an education—the man he’d hired to superintend my education, who I’d outstripped by the age of twelve, was consigned over to her charge. I knew the point. Her family was not a rich one, and her mother was an extravagant woman. She would have nothing to live upon if they died before she were married. My father intended her to be able to establish herself respectably as a governess; whatever his faults in other respects, he had money, which he bestowed liberally to those who had more need of it than he.”

Here Tony paused a minute, looking pensive. Steve did not press him on a subject that he could sense was a very sensitive one. His dark eyes focused on the drink in his hand, he continued softly, “He died around my eighteenth birthday, along with my mother. Horrible accident.” He paused again for a hearty pull from his glass then continued. “Her mother had passed before then and her father died when I was about two-and-twenty. She was fully ready to leave this estate and forge out for her own, though she had no connections in the outside world, very little savings, and no experience as a governess. But I couldn’t hear of it. How could I abandon the bosom friend of my youth, especially when I had no living relatives left? It took some convincing, but I was finally able to extract from her an agreement to stay here, on the condition that she would have some kind of job. The housekeeper had recently retired in her old age and moved away to live with her son’s family, so it was settled that Pepper would take that role. And…here we are today.”

His drink having been set on a side table, he folded his hands in his lap and looked at Steve with a slightly pursed smile. Flustered, Steve said, “I beg your pardon if the question was personal…I was merely surprised. I had thought she was your wife.”

Tony chuckled good-naturedly. “Don’t mind the curiosity at all. She is full-young to be a housekeeper, and many people have asked me if she is my missus or assumed she is my mistress. But she is more a sister to me than anything else. Really the only family I have left, and I suppose if I’m a little obsessively desirous about keeping her with me, can I really be blamed?”

“No, I understand you full-well,” answered Steve, a slightly forced half-smile pulled onto his countenance. “I felt the same when I followed Bucky into the army. I wanted to serve my country, but just as strongly I wanted to stay with him. Live or die, we were going to do it together. We aren’t related by blood, but he’s the only thing I’ve got in this world.” He took a deep, fortifying breath and then looked up at Tony with his eyes burning like a blue flame. “That’s why I have to find him. I’m not going to leave him in the hands of…whatever that creature is…what is he?” The noble defiance faded slightly from his voice as he added the last question, the confusion and fear of the unknown cracking through his tough demeanor. Tony sighed, took another sip of his drink, and then shrugged, downed it, and poured himself another. No amount of alcohol would ever completely prepare someone for this conversation.

“What is he, you ask?” Tony said, holding his newly refilled drink at eye-level and examining it as if he were a scientist and the liquor in his hand were a newly discovered substance. Then he gave a short, bitter chuckle. “What is he not?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Steve sighed, flexing his hand in his lap. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Tony, as the man was making him constantly switch between empathy and annoyance. Also, he was concerned about the level of alcohol the baronet was consuming. This was his second glass, a large glass at that, and he’d had at least another at the tavern. It wasn’t very honorable to press an inebriated man for information, but he needed this information—and Tony was appearing to become even more talkative with every swig from his drink.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Tony said in the same faked light tone. “Well, what if I told you he was supernatural?”

“…have we not already established this?” Steve asked.

“Yes, but I want to make sure you truly understand what I am saying by that. He may look human; he walks on two legs, has hands, can talk…. But let me assure you, he is anything _but_ human.”

“Then _what is he_?” Steve reiterated, calling on every lesson of good breeding that had ever been instilled in him to keep as much rudeness from his voice as possible. Tony blinked.

“Never before have I met someone who hasn’t countered that with derision or absolute denial,” he said softly, almost to himself. Then louder, and with a bit of haughtier in his voice which usually comes with revealing something that another person hasn’t been able to work out on their own, he said, “Quite simply, I’m sure he’s a vampire. Now, he could be a number of other things as well, but the vampire aspect I’m certain of.”

Steve stared at him for a heartbeat. Then another. And then another. Finally, after several heartbeats and blinks, he said, “A…eh?”

“A _vampire_ ,” said Tony with a slight roll of his eyes, as if vampires were common creatures like hounds and hogs. “They are known by many names to many peoples: the Greek called them _vrykolakas_ , the Romans _lamia_ , and the Norse _draugr_. In the English language, we have called them demons, spectral beings, revenants, the living dead. _Vampire_ is the most recent of these monikers, but I find it the most fitting for what Loki is. A vampire, by the definition I have derived from various sources, is a formerly human creature who must consume the life force of a living person (their blood) in order to continue _existing_ —I don’t believe the term _living_ really applies here.”

Steve continued to stare. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry. Feeling the wetness of the condensation on the outside of the glass in his hand, he brought the rim to his lips, took a sip and then a hearty swig. Slowly lowering it, he finally spoke.

“What does that mean for my friend?” he asked quietly, intently. Tony looked at him. If he got as far as explaining what Loki was, this usually was the point when his listener would either laugh, scoff, or storm out in anger, muttering something about not being ‘taken for a fool.’

“You believe me?” Tony asked softly. “You believe me that simply, when I’ve offered you nothing to give you reason to do so?”

“You’ve invited me into your house. You listened to my story without ridicule. You haven’t given me a reason _not_ to trust you,” Steve said, looking steadily at the man with his piercing blue eyes. “I’m desperate to find my friend, si— Tony. If you can help me with that, even if it’s just making me better informed, I’ll take it, because these last two weeks I feel like I’ve been grasping madly at smoke and mist. If you are having me on…please, tell me right now. I’ll calmly leave and you won’t hear from me again. If you are having me on and you don’t admit and I find out…” He didn’t finish, but let his words hang oppressively in the air.

Tony didn’t seem fazed by the man’s demeanor. In fact, he appeared to hold Steve in a slightly higher esteem as he said, “I have my own personal reasons for knowing so much about Loki. Believe it or not, I used to be an _intimate_ friend of his.” The way he lingered on that one adjective dripped of some strong passion. Steve’s first assumption was a passionate hatred, but he saw little of malice in Tony’s dark eyes. In fact, they seemed to glimmer vulnerably for a second before hardening into orbs of onyx once more. These odd factors made Steve itch to ask questions but at the same time prevented him from doing so—it was impossible to ask for more, yet it was equally impossible not to wonder. He settled into an earnest silence, hoping Tony would further elaborate.

“My father, long before I was born, had been a sort of watchdog of the lands. Not in the normal sort, as protecting it from your petty thieves or what-have-you. He protected it from less known criminals of a supernatural sort. He’s encountered everything from vampires to witches to specters.” Tony paused, again glancing suspiciously at his listener, gauging his reaction. Steve sat still, earnest expression ingrained in his features, determined to absorb everything this man had to say. Tony continued, “He created a secret, underground society called Shield to help deal with these creatures, as he realized that one man alone couldn’t protect all of England.

“Affiliated with but not truly a part of Shield is a family of ambiguous origin. They seem to be as old as the surrounding rocks and rivers and, though I am not sure exactly _what_ they are, the answer certainly isn’t human. The father and mother simply go by first names like royalty, Odin and Frigga. They are also sometimes referred to as the Allfather and Allmother. They have two sons: the oldest, Thor Odinson, and the younger, Loki Odinson…or now, Laufeyson. Laufey was a powerful vampire who controlled an entire horde of other vampires, and he was also a deep enemy of Odin. As it turns out…Loki was Laufey’s son.”

“So the…Allmother, you called her? She…?” Steve asked.

“No, she is not Loki’s true mother. The family truly are like royalty, in that they live in a secluded, unexplored section of the country that few can enter, probably due to some enchantment, and rule over their own clan of like people, whom they call Asgardians. The Asgardians and the Jotuns (the name Laufey had chosen for his coven of vampires) had fought and the Jotuns fled. Left behind was a small infant, obviously vampire. He had translucent skin, crystalline eyes, and fangs. Odin, moved by some feeling of compassion I suppose, took the abandoned babe back to Asgard, which is what they call their land. I am unsure how it was done, but they altered the babe’s appearance. The eyes were changed to a vibrant green and the teeth given a more normal look. But he still didn’t resemble his newfound family. He had dark hair whereas the rest of them were blond, and his skin stayed pearly white while they had fairer, more sunned complexions. And Odin, though he had saved the child and adopted him into the family, he still treated him a second to his birth son, Thor, always giving the latter the precedence. Still, Loki never doubted he was related to them, until his true condition was shoved surprisingly and painfully into his face.”

“I am confused,” Steve said. He saw Tony roll his eyes but elected to ignore it, and continued, “You said earlier that vampires weren’t truly alive…how can something _not_ alive create something that _is_?”

“That I cannot tell you. I don’t think it’s possible for two vampires to create something living, which leads me to believe he is only part-vampire. There are histories and oral tales around the world which depict creatures that strongly resemble vampires, though not using that exact word, having children with human women. This may have happened, or it might have been one vampire parent with some other _mythical_ creature. In fact, that’s probably the more likely of the two, as Loki seems to possess powers that are natural to vampires.”

Steve seemed to chew on this for a moment before nodding slowly. Then, his brows furrowed as a peculiar expression came to his features. “How do you know this, all these facts about Loki and his origin?”

Tony was silent for several long moments. Steve’s first instinct was to apologize for asking something intrusive, but he repressed it. The baronet was telling him some fantastical things. He didn’t know how possible it would be for Tony to immediately prove the things he said, but he did know the baronet should at least be able to cite his claims to a source. If he wanted him to truly believe him, he needed to know at least that much.

“Did I not say we were, at a time, intimate friends?” Tony said softly, his voice barely distinguishable over the crackling fire. “We met when I was sixteen. He looked much the same as he does now—a fellow just teetering on the edge of manhood. It was the first time my father had taken me to Asgard, as a trophy of sorts I guess. Odin had boasted at their last meeting of some accomplishment of Thor’s and I suppose my father wanted to show off his own son. I wasn’t so complying. I remember being surly and disrespectful, until my father finally threw up his hands and told me leave the meeting if I couldn’t act like a young man. That was when, skulking through the halls of that mansion, I came across Loki, curled away in the crook of a window with his silvery eyes pouring over an ancient-looking scroll.

“I sat down and tried to converse with him. At first he was annoyed with my presence and pretended I wasn’t there, but I’m nothing if not an insistent ass. He finally slammed his book closed and begrudgingly conversed with me. The substance of the conversation was complaints against ill-usage from our families. This may seem odd, but a common dislike can actually be the beginning of substantial friendship. After this initial meeting, I would come to visit him at least once a se’night, and he would send messages to me if he felt I hadn’t visited frequently enough. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy my company, though to this day I still don’t understand why. Possibly I presented the first listening ears to his woes (he didn’t seem to be a favorite in Asgard, for reasons he found unfathomable). As for myself, I had similar reasoning. I couldn’t complain to Pepper at home without her adding inquisitions into my own character that drowned my feelings of neglect in more poignant ones of guilt and doubt. Loki would listen to my narrative without batting an eye, and at the end, he wouldn’t insinuate I was wrong in my feelings. He’d simply nod in commiseration. I guess, in short, I kept visiting him because he gave me all of the satisfaction of wallowing in my own negativity.”

“But…how did you come to know he was a vampire?” Steve asked after processing what he had heard. “And how did this intimacy end?”

Tony raised his eyebrows at the last question. “Most people would find that impertinent.”

“Most people aren’t trying to rescue their most intimate friend from the clutches of a vampire.”

“This I will concede. One night he came to me, which in itself was an oddity—I was always the one to visit him. He was covered in a thick black cloak and tightly clutching his cane like a lifeline. He voice when he spoke was breathless and agitated, so unlike its usual dripping suavity. When I grabbed him to try to stop his frantic pacing in my drawing room, where I found him, his skin was cold as ice. I looked at his face and…he was changed. His eyes were not the vibrant green I had become accustomed to but a crystalline silver, and his fangs peaked from his quivering lips. Even though I’d never seen a vampire in person before, I knew what he was, mainly from my father’s descriptions. But surprisingly, this wasn’t my foremost priority. I was more afraid of the agitated state of a man who I had never known as anything other than controlled and collected, now in a state of panic. He really had gone quite distracted.”

_“What...good God, Loki, what has happened!?” Tony exclaimed as the trembling creature squirmed free of his grasp and took several steps back. “What has gotten you in such a state?”_

_“It is terrific, utterly horrifying,” Loki said, his voice unusually choked. “It is the most insupportable thing imaginable; it is beyond belief!”_

_“_ What _is it?” Tony pressed. He took another step toward his friend, who flinched. Loki did not flinch, especially from ‘a mere man.’ Tony gently grasped his shoulder, guiding him to the nearby sofa and pressing him to sit. Loki hesitated and then almost collapsed onto the furniture, dropping his cane to the floor and clutching the cloak he wore around him like a blanket. Tony procured a glass of wine for him, which Loki, again after hesitation, drank._

_Finally, after several long minutes of heavy silence, Loki spoke, “You can see what I am.”_

_“I can see you are distressed, though I know not why,” Tony countered, always one to avoid unpleasant things for as long as possible._

_“Do not coddle me, quim!” Loki flared, but then quickly deflated. With a shuddering breath, he said, “My father has lied to me. Everything he has told me has been a lie. He is not even my father, nor Frigga my mother or Thor my brother. I am a bastard son of a horrendous creature named Laufey.”_

_“Laufey…the vampire king?” Tony quipped. Loki nodded miserably._

_“It was thrust on me so suddenly today. Odin had heard word of some of Laufey’s vampires on the northern border of our lands and sent Thor to investigate the claim and remove the threat, if there was one. I was angered by his choosing of Thor over me and stated intentions of accompanying him, only to have Odin violently oppose such a wish and forbid me to go. Naturally that only intrigued my curiosity and I secretly followed Thor’s party. When they reached the border, it was discovered the rumors were true. There was an entire coven of vampires, at least a score, and Thor had only brought The Warriors Three and Lady Sif with him. I jumped from my hiding place in the shadows, ready to fight with my brother, when all the vampires looked at me as if they had seen a ghost._

_“ ‘Do you smell that, sister?’ one of them said to another in a hissing voice. ‘Aye,’ she answered, ‘ ‘tis faint but unmistakable. And he even shares his looks.’_

_“ ‘What do you speak of, foul creature?’ Thor demanded._

_“ ‘We speak of the lie in your midst,’ sneered the vampire. ‘The wolf in sheep’s clothing.’_

_“ ‘Keep your lies to yourself, twisted snake!’ Thor answered._

_“ ‘I speak no lies,’ she hissed back and started towards me. ‘Here, let me prove my claim!’_

_“ ‘Touch not my brother!’ Thor bellowed and the fighting began. Asgardians are stronger than mere vampires, but there were too many of them to watch all of them. One grabbed me from behind, clutching my face with their clammy hands. Then a horrible sensation came over me, like my flesh was melting from my body. I screamed. The entire battle seemed to freeze and everyone, Asgardian and vampire, had their eyes upon me. My brother looked stunned, his warriors horrified. Then to_ my _horror, one of The Warriors Three to lifted his weapon and started toward me. I know not whether he planned to attack myself or the vampire grasping my face, but from the way Thor tackled him it is clear what he thought._

_“In the confusion I was able to throw my holder off me and flee. I believe some chased after me, but I soon outstripped them—I have always been fast. When I was sure I was alone, I stopped to view myself in a pond. I expected to see burned flesh, but no, my skin was the same as it has always been. But my eyes…I noticed right away. As I stared into the pool, I had time to feel an irregularity in my mouth; my teeth were touching the inside of my lips in a way they never had before. I opened my mouth to look and… saw these… and I knew…”_

_Loki drew a shuddering, ragged breath. Tony was shocked to see tears in Loki’s eyes that he was hastily trying to blink away. Instinctively, Tony grabbed his wrist. Loki seemed surprised by the gesture at first but didn’t pull away. Instead, he used his free hand to shakily bring the wine glass back to his lips. Then, he continued. “I went straight home to my father, hiding from everyone in the kingdom. When he saw me…he wasn’t shocked at all. He looked…resigned. I cried out to him, saying that the vampire must have put some curse upon me, but he simply shook his head._

_“ ‘No, it’s not a curse, Loki,’ he said. ‘It is your true form.’_

_“ ‘No.’ I said, growing loud and frantic. ‘No, it cannot be. I am Asgardian; I am your son!’_

_“ ‘You are neither,’ he said simply, as if he were commenting on the weather outdoors. ‘You were abandoned as a babe when we last pushed the vampires from our lands. You were found inside Lord Laufey’s personal quarters, sickly and weak. You are likely his spawn, left behind because you were not believed to survive. I brought you back to Asgard—I did not expect you to live beyond a day, but I would not leave a babe to slowly wither in a cave. But when Frigga saw you, she used every method within her power to nurse you back to health. It was then I decided to keep you. Frigga was already attached, and the vampires were still out in the country, lurking in the shadows, waiting for another chance to strike. I saw you could be of use in the future, but for now you must look like one of us. You were newborn, as we Thor. I had Frigga alter your appearance into that of an Asgardian and we circulated throughout the kingdom that Frigga had given birth to twins, first Thor and then you. As you have grown, you have proved a valuable member of the kingdom, if sometimes tempered, which is a fault of your heritage. In short, I do not regret my decision to make you a part of my family.”_

_He finished as simply as he began, as if reciting a poem. I had listened in cold silence, but then, the_ anger of my heritage _burst forth._

_“ ‘But…you did not make me a part of your family.’ I said, my voice beginning to shake. ‘You did not take me in as one of your own. All my life I have been a second to Thor. You have used me as nothing more than an example, a comparison of how much better, how much worthier an heir Thor is. You have made it clear that I am always lesser than him and will never amount to his glory. Yet despite this, you left me with hope. You always told us that the position of heir would be given not according to age but according to whosoever earned it. You let me believe I had a chance, I could earn the birthright—’_

_“ ‘Twas your birthright to die!’ he exclaimed, his face turning red as it does when he becomes angered. I suppose I wasn’t as thankful for a life of lies as he expected me to be,” Loki spat out venomously, fire in his eyes. Then the fire dimmed to a dull ache and he let his head fall into his hands, frame shaking as he tried to hold back sobs._

_Tony sat unmoving for all of one heartbeat before his arm slipped over Loki’s bent back. Loki froze but then leaned into the shorter man’s embrace. It was rare for Loki to take such a submissive pose, but this seemed to be a night of abnormality._

_“I turned and fled like a scolded child,” Loki murmured miserably into his hands. “I feel…afraid, Tony. What am I to do? I cannot go home, not like this…I am not sure I even want to go back. And what am I to do, now that I am a monster?”_

_“You are not a monster,” Tony said steadily. “You’re Loki, and you’re…everything to me.”_

_Both of the men made declarations of the deepest nature—both humbled from their high pride to make admissions of fear and need. Loki finally raised his face slightly from his hands, eyes glassy._

_“Look at me, Anthony Stark,” he said harshly, “I_ am _a monster. I am the fiend parents tell their children of in tales to keep them from misbehavior. I am the foul creature the Shield hunts!”_

_“The Shield does not indiscriminately hunt vampires,” Tony said determinedly, the first to actually voice the accursed word. Loki stared at him. “It may have in the past but it will no longer; I will make sure of it.”_

_“But Shield is under your father’s control, not yours—”_

_“I will make sure of it!” Tony swore. “I will not allow you to be hunted like a common beast. I will allow nothing to befall you.”_

_With the intensity of those crystalline eyes gazing at him, Tony exclaimed in a rush, before his fiery confidence could leave him, “You are more important to me than my family.”_

_“You do not mean that, you cannot—” Loki shook his head._

_“I can and do mean what I say,” Tony reiterated. “My parents never gave a damn about me, most likely never will. But you, you listen to me, let me come to you, and you to me when you are distressed. You have trusted me with this, something that has shaken you to your core. As I said, you are…everything to me. And you are always welcome here. If you will not go back to Asgard then this house can be your haven. No harm shall come to you within these grounds.”_

_Loki looked at him for a long time, his eyes searching Tony’s face. Then he sighed, looking back at his lap. “Thank you, Tony,” he murmured. Tony wasn’t sure if Loki believed him or not. Still, the baronet’s son held the vampire against him all the more tightly, trying to reassure him without words._

The hard facts of this encounter were related to Captain Rogers, while Tony kept the more intimate details locked away in his memories. His chest ached with a mixture of betrayal and tender recollections, but he kept a stoic mask on his face—or he thought he did. Steve saw enough in his eyes and heard enough in his words to suspect but did not concern himself it. He would not pry into the sentiments of this man, especially when he assumed them to be near what he felt for his dear _friend_ Bucky.

“His brother arrived not long after and was able to convince him to return to Asgard. The Allmother was able to alter his appearance back to what it had been before. For the next several months, he became more and more reserved. He never returned to my house and he did not prompt me to visit him anymore. When I did come, he would not talk like he used to but sat silently, usually staring at one of his many books, reading the same page over and over again without comprehending it once. Many times I would come and he would not be there. He took to taking long solitary walks all over Asgard. I know his brother and mother worried for him, but the father seemed content to watch Loki wither away from afar.

“Meanwhile at home, I was championing my cause to my father. I wanted him to swear that Shield would not harm vampires solely on the basis of their species, that they would only attack vampires who had proven to be malicious to humankind—”

“But all vampires would fit that description, if they must drink blood to survive—” Steve began.

“Yes they must drink blood. No that blood does not have to be human blood.” Tony specified. “And Loki, either because of whatever spell the Allmother put upon him or my suspicions of him being only partially vampire, could survive just as well on a human diet as he can on a vampire’s.

“As I presented this again and again to my father, wanting not only his word but his resolution in writing, he demanded my sudden interest in this matter. And he wouldn’t accept my excuses of having suddenly understand and emphasized with the _vampire plight_ , as he called it. Finally, I slipped and revealed Loki’s interest in the affair. At first he didn’t believe me and was angry at me for _telling such lies_. But after a night of thought, he arose the next morning, ordered me into the carriage, and rode to Asgard to see for himself if such was true.

“When we arrived and all was revealed, though begrudgingly, my father was horrified. He and my mother, who had come with us, left in the carriage. I refused to leave, stating I’d walk home if I must. I wanted to find Loki. I didn’t have to look far. He had been hiding in the shadows, watching the entire scene. His hand snatched out to grab me as I exited, holding me like a vice. His voice hissed in my ear like a snake, both angry and hurt. ‘You told them?’ he cried. ‘You…of all people, I thought I could trust you. But I was wrong. I can trust no one.’ With that, he pushed me, hard enough to make me fall to floor. By the time I righted myself, he was gone.”

Here Tony paused for a while. He fixed himself another drink.

“I rode home on a borrowed horse provided me by Thor. Though angry at my father’s reaction, he held no qualms against me. When I arrived my parents were still gone, but I was too angry to concern myself with this. It wasn’t until nightfall, when I heard a banging on the front door, that my world was shattered. It was a constable, come to tell me that my parents’ carriage had been found overturned in the country. Everyone was dead, my parents, the servant who attended them, even the horses. All seemed to be drained of blood, all had a gash on their throats. This is often how vampires hide the bite-marks.”

“So…you believe Loki killed your…” Steve perceived.

“I am certain he did,” Tony said, his voice hard but his eyes betraying his inner turmoil. “No one saw him after I did; he could not be found. In his room, his staff, some of his clothes, and some of his other prized possessions were gone. Why would he have left unless he had done some unpardonable crime? He may have had to live under the watch of a horrible, miserly father, but he was still a prince, for god’s sake. Outside of Asgard, he had nothing. So why would he leave unless he had done something that would lower him from his royal status to that of a criminal?”

“I know not,” Steve answered, unsure what else to say.

“Neither do I,” Tony answered, knocking back the rest of his drink and wiping his mouth on the fine cloth of his shirt, “neither do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: can't really think of any in this chapter. Hmm. Allusions to neglect from Odin and Howard, I guess. Some self-hate on Loki's part. 
> 
> Oh my god. I'm a horrible person. A horrible, horrible, horrible person. I posted this on August 10. It's November 17. Holy hell. I can't believe I did that to you people. Please forgive me. All I can say in my excuse is that I have lots of chronic illnesses that have been giving me the pits the last couple months. Also, I'm in my junior year of high school taking a college class and three honors courses, so my schedule is pretty tight. And I've been trying really hard for inspiration. This has been a hard chapter to right, and all it really is is backstory (I promise chapter 3 will be mostly if not all present-day, with Tony and Steve starting their search for Loki and Bucky). It's been so difficult to try and morph two different superhero modern-day stories into one Victorian-era supernatural tale. I want to make it plausible for the time period it's set in while still keeping identifying details from the original stories, all while trying to make this one cohesive work. So please bear with me. 
> 
> For those of you who will read this update after all this time, if there are any of you, thank you so much. I live for you people. Again, my deepest apologies to you readers and the prompt-creator (horns-of-mischief) for the delay. I can't promise it won't happen again due to the nature of my illnesses, but I will try my damnedest to update in a timely manner. 
> 
> Side note, November 13 was my birthday. I'm seventeen years old now. Yaaaay. I got a stylus for my laptop's touchscreen, a bunch of Captain America stuff from my friends, and some money (a bit of which I used to order a Bucky Funko doll on Amazon). :D


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was gray with the dim light before dawn as Loki and his ward glided like ghosts across the deserted fields that littered the edge of Yorkshire. The sun was on its way, but it was of no consequence. They were almost to their destination.

Loki came to a graceful stop on top of a rocky hill while Bucky landed just below him, a few pebbles jostling under his feet. He hadn’t fully mastered the speed and stealth of vampirism yet, but he was only a fledgling, after all. And, he was worlds away from the clumsy oaf he had been two weeks prior, all heartbeat and sweat and ungainly _humanness_.

Bucky followed him closely as he padded down to the base of the boulders. He closely observed the rocks at eye level before picking a particular one and touching it with the sharp end of his staff. It glowed, and the rock it touched glowed as well. Tendrils of blue lights slithered over the surrounding rocks like snakes, and the rocks moved with them, rolling over each other to create a hole in the base of the hill, just large enough for them to duck through without having to get on their hands and knees. Loki went in first, shrinking his staff down to a rod and brandishing it in front of him. Bucky followed, silver eyes bright and alert as they took in the new abode.

The hill was hollow, ground and rock forming a patchwork dome around them tall enough to stand in. The dirt ground was packed hard together, and none stirred out of place underfoot. It was cool and dark, but not damp.

“How does it do this?” Bucky asked curiously, looking to Loki, who smiled at him.

“Because I will it,” he said, lifting his rod once more and causing their entrance to close behind them. Besides the wisps of light that poured through miniscule cracks and the dim aura of Loki’s rod, their cave was blackness. Loki and Bucky could still see each other perfectly.

“Why do we stay here?” he said as he took his usual seat near his _Dominus_ ’s feet.

“Because I say we do,” Loki said, eyeing Bucky curiously as he lowered himself down next to him. “Why do you question me?”

“I-I do not question you, _Dominus_ ,” Bucky stammered, shaking his head vigorously. “I am sorry, _Dominus_ , I am—”

“Relax, _formosam_ ,” Loki chided him. Bucky breathed in, then out, then looked up at him expectantly. He had since learned to not fret when Loki called him mysterious words. “I am not angry with you. In fact,” he pursed his lips in thought, and then smiled, “I feel particularly generous this morning. I shall allow you to ask two more questions, and I promise I will answer you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock and he smiled brightly. “Truly, _rex meus_?” he asked. When Loki nodded, he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. A frown came upon his face as he stared at the floor in deep concentration. Loki smiled again as he pondered how amusing Bucky looked with furrowed brow, pinched nose, and pursed lips. Finally, Bucky spoke again.

“You once said you _found_ me,” he began tentatively, as if scared the offer would be revoked once his questions were known. “I have wondered… when you found me, who was I before? And… why did you take me with you?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, and Bucky swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing.

“Do my questions displease you?” he asked quickly, looking up at the taller man.

“No, no, _Delicium_ ,” Loki answered, noting how Bucky’s body seemed to shiver with delight and relief at Loki’s favorite moniker for him. His pale lips twisted upwards. “It is quiet all right. I am pleased you ask such questions. It assures me how intelligent and insightful you are. I am proud of you. Come here, and I shall answer you. But once I do, you will rest until I say it is time for us to go. Do you understand?”

“Yes, _Dominus_ ,” Bucky answered as he crawled forward on hand and knees. He nestled in his accustomed place, curled into Loki’s side with his head pillowed on his shoulder.

“Then I will start with the first. I found you a fortnight ago. You were…a human.”

“A human?” Bucky echoed softly in disbelief. Loki nodded sagely.

“Shocking, yes? You were once one of those creatures. And I will let you know, _Delicium_ , that I was looking to feed when I found you.”

“But if you thirsted, why didn’t you kill me?” Bucky asked. Loki cut his eyes at him.

“Patience,” he chided warningly. Bucky furiously nuzzled into his neck in apology.

“When I saw you,” he began again after allowing Bucky to fawn for several moments, “I was struck by how helpless you were. You were on the edge of the sea, and you looked down at the waters as if you wished them to swallow you. You were hurt,” he said, stroking what was left of Bucky’s left arm, “but you weren’t being cared for properly.”

Bucky looked up at him again but stopped himself from voicing a question. Loki nodded approvingly and continued, “You were in the charge of another man, but he either did not know how to care for you or chose not to. He was not trying to heal you. He must have seen your sadness and pain, yet did nothing. I saw you, miserable yet still lovely, so much potential, and the thought of drinking that potential from you until your body became as empty as your eyes…it saddened me. So, dismayed and angered by the lot you were given, I deigned to give you a new life, a life free of the horror of being lost. You have a purpose now, yes?” When Bucky nodded, he added, “And what is it?”

“To serve you, _Dominus_ , with the life you have gifted me,” he cooed back, smiling at the pleasure on his master’s face.

“And does your purpose give you happiness?”

“Yes, yes it does. I do not know what I would do if I hadn’t you to guide me,” Bucky answered. He looked up at Loki with pleading crystalline eyes. “You...” he began, but stopped. He mustn’t question. But Loki tucked a finger under his chin and pulled his face back up.

“What would you say?” Loki asked, his voice soothing. “You will not be punished.”

Bucky swallowed and said lowly, “You won’t leave me, will you?”

Loki smiled and kissed him, running his tongue slowly across plush, quivering lips.

“No,” he whispered as he pulled back. “I will not.”

* * *

“I really cannot thank you enough for your hospitality and generosity, and one day I hope to be able to adequately repay you. But I’m afraid I must be going now.”

Tony slowly set his cup of steaming coffee back on its saucer, and that down onto the table. He raised his dark eyes up to look at Steve, who was standing just in the doorway of the breakfast parlor. He was standing stiffly, feet spread slightly apart and arms folded behind his back. A natural soldier’s stance. Tony simply nodded his head to him in greeting and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“I, pardon?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Did you get enough rest?” Tony emphasized impatiently, deciding to stir a little more cream into his cup. Steve watched him, still frowning, as if he couldn’t decide to be annoyed or just confused with the baronet’s behavior.

“Yes, s-Tony, I did. I thank you again for allowing me to stay.” Though he had been adamant on heading back to his inn the night before, Tony had been equally strong in his opinion that Steve should stay in one of his many guest rooms. Sheer tenacity and stubbornness on his side, mixed with the exhaustion growing heavier on Steve as they argued, won him the contest in the end, and he was happily able to send a boy to get Steve’s things and send the man upstairs.

“This is false,” Tony said. Steve blinked, breathed in and out slowly. Then he smiled cynically.

“It is?” he murmured. Tony nodded as he started to spread some chutney on his toast. Steve chuckled disbelievingly. “Please, enlighten me. What makes you think so?”

“If you _had_ fully rested, you would not be talking such nonsense right now,” he answered, stating it as simply as if he’d been commenting on the weather or the state of the food he was currently stuffing into his mouth.

“Nonsense,” Steve echoed, shaking his head and smiling, but it wasn’t kind. “You still think looking for my friend is nonsense.”

“Well, yes,” Tony said, placing his toast on his plate. “ _You_ still do not know what you’re facing.”

“If what you said last night was true, I know fair well,” Steve countered, his eyes narrow.

“No, you do not,” Tony sighed, looking at him piteously. “You believe you do, but do you really?”

“Tony,” Steve said, locking eyes with the man, “I really do not have time for games of words. I _must_ be leaving.” He turned to leave.

“What are you going to do if you find them?” Tony called after him. Steve stopped and slowly turned back around.

“Pardon?” Steve said again.

“What,” Tony repeated, “are you going to do if you find them? How are you, a mere human, going to take on a vampire? And what about your friend? In all likelihood, as we discussed, he has been turned—”

“I refuse to believe he is lost,” Steve interrupted.

“You must consider all possibilities!” Tony insisted, his intensity surprising Steve. “What will you do if he is under Loki’s control, if he does not remember who you are, if he _attacks_ you? Will you fight him off? Will you even be able to if you chose so?”

Silence fell. Steve stared at the floor.

“I,” he murmured, “will do what I must.”

Tony sighed. He stood up and slowly walked towards the man. Steve glanced up, slightly, for Tony was shorter than him. He might have looked down at him, but he also looked up in a sense, seeking some kind of answer that he hoped Tony might give him. The baronet put a hand on his arm.

“Go,” he said, nodding towards the seat across from him. “Sit. Eat. Listen to what I have to say. Whether you decide to heed me or not is up to you, but you must surely see that traveling on an empty stomach will not help your cause.”

Steve looked as though he were to argue, but his broad chest deflated and a dismal sigh passed his lips as he relented and sat at the table. A plate of succulent black pudding, perfectly cooked eggs, and light brown toast was built before him, but he showed no enthusiasm in eating it, taking small bites and seeming to chew without tasting. Tony frowned as he watched him.

“Allow me to explain to you as best I can,” he began, folding his hands in front of him. Steve stopped eating, if eating it could be called, to give him his full attention. Tony wished the man would put some food in his belly, or at least turn those piercing blue eyes from his inky ones. “Let us say that you do leave this place and continue your quest. You now know what Loki is, somewhat, but does that help you? Since your plans don’t appear to have changed, the answer is no. The knowledge that he has supernatural powers doesn’t help you in the slightest to figure out where he will be hiding and when he will be there.

“For the sake of the argument, let us now consider that you do find him, however miraculous that would be. What will you do? Try to reason with him? I assure you, he is not one to be easily dissuaded. Will you fight him? You saw yourself how fast and strong he is. What you have not seen is his magic, how he can cause hallucinations, dig into your mind and play you like a finely tuned instrument.”

“All the more reason to get Bucky away from him,” Steve said with confidence.

“You will die.” Tony bit back, becoming exasperated with the man’s naïveté. “Or worse yet, he will make your friend kill you. If he holds you in the same regard you hold him and yet he still stays with Loki, then he is either dead or completely under Loki’s control. And I’ve seen people under his control. He will follow Loki’s commands without a breath of hesitation. Captain,” he sighed, “this is a battle you cannot win.”

“Loki is not invincible,” Steve said loudly, half rising from his chair. Midway he seemed to recollect himself. He slowly lowered himself back down, dipping his head as he added more quietly, “I refuse to believe there is no hope for my friend. He never abandoned me, whether I was an ass about accepting his help or not. I will not give up on him, not if there is hope.”

“There really is no—”

“There is _always_ hope,” the captain said. Though the volume did not change, Tony was as struck by the sentence as if he had screamed it to the rafters above them. He sat back in his chair—he hadn’t been aware he’d even leaned forward.

“Loki has a few weaknesses—a _very_ few, but they exist nonetheless,” Tony said slowly, as if the words were being dragged from him. “Intense heat. He is fine in the heat of the day, but fire is deadly to him. I’ve seen him burn his hand once. The skin turned gray and ashy, seeming to flake off like dust. But he was able to quickly heal himself with magic. If you could burn enough of him, it might incapacitate him. Also, since there is magic in him, there are supposedly symbols that can weaken him or protect one from him. I’ve only seen one actually work.”

Tony got up and strode over to a writing desk that sat against the opposite wall. From a drawer he pulled a scrap of paper and a pen. Dipping the tip into a nearby inkwell, he swiftly scribbled something upon the page and handed it to Steve, who had gotten up to stand behind him. He examined the symbol on it closely.

 

“That is a leben-rune. It is a symbol for life and protection, and should make you impervious to any of Loki’s enchantments.” Tony explained, folding his arms across his chest. “Make sure you always draw it with the three prongs toward the sky. The opposite means death, and I’m sure that is not a rune you’d like on your body when facing a vampire. Write it in something that won’t smudge off—or better yet, take a blade and carve it on you. Without it you’ll be very vulnerable.” He cut his eyes up. “Even with it, you still stand little chance.”

Steve looked at him. “There was once a time when everyone thought I would amount to nothing,” he said coolly as he folded the paper and stuffed it into his coat pocket, “a time when people thought it would have been better for me to have died in the womb. But here I am, thanks be to perseverance on my own part and belief on that of select others. Bucky was one of those who never thought me weak, useless, a waste of human life and potential. If I were to throw him to the dogs now… well, I’d just be proving all the naysayers right, hmm?”

“You’re going to die,” Tony said softly, vainly. Steve smiled, his eyes like cool ice chips.

“There are some things more daunting than death.”

They stared at each other silently, eyes locked in battle. A bird chirped outside. The food on the table was losing it freshness. Steve patted his pocket.

“Thank you for this,” he said, cordially bowing his head, “and for everything. As I stated, I do intend to repay you one day. But, it is time for me to take leave. Give my farewell to Miss Potts, and my regret for not being able to address her personally.”

Tony bowed his head in acquiescence as Steve turned and strode to the doorway.

“Where are you going now?”

Steve paused. Without turning back, he answered, “Northallerton.” Then, he was gone.

Tony stood there for several minutes, dark eyes watching the sway of a tree outside the large bay window. Eventually, a butler entered carrying fresh coffee.

“Sir, would you like—”

“Jarvis, that gentleman is going to hunt a vampire, alone _and_ ill-prepared.”

“Then he is much more foolish than he appeared,” Jarvis said as he started to clean Steve’s table setting. “Yet you are planning to follow him, aren’t you?”

When Tony didn’t answer, he continued, “I shall go directly to pack your things. But telling Miss Potts…I leave that to you, sir.”

He didn’t have to look at Tony’s face as he exited to know there was a grimace upon it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes for new Latin words: rex meus means king and formosam means lovely one. Bucky's learning some Latin o,o
> 
> The Leben-rune is a Norse symbol for life and protection. I chose that symbol for its tie to canon Loki. 
> 
> I want to apologize again for the delay but all I can really say in my defense is that life is tough as hell. I still love you all though and this story WILL be finished. I refuse to leave anything hanging.


End file.
